


Proud of him

by imsfire



Series: Fragments from the multiverse [12]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Cassian is mentioned but isn't present, Draven is not a dick, Gen, Post-Scarif, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, debriefing scene, feels and mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 19:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: In the aftermath of the battles of Scarif and Yavin, General Draven discusses his best field agent with a very angry Jyn, and learns how much she appreciates Cassian's choices and actions, and how indebted to him she feels herself, and the rebellion, to be.





	Proud of him

**Author's Note:**

> For the final day of thefulcrumcaptain's Cassian Andor Appreciation Week 2019; Free day.  
> Slightly odd in that it's Cassian-centric by dint of being two other people talking about him.

“I realise I’m of very little interest. Just a troublemaker. An undesirable.” The bruised young woman glares at Davits Draven. “Cost you a lot of lives and ships and political capital, even if it did all work out in the end.” The lines around her mouth are contemptuous and angry. “Should be grateful I wasn’t spaced out of an airlock, right?”

“Spaced? We don’t do that, as a rule,” he tells her. “Not even to Imperials. Though it’s true there are a lot of people who blame you for our recent losses.”

“Well, they should. Someone had to kick your arses for you, since you weren’t doing it yourselves.”

Arguing even against her own interest. Extraordinary woman.

“Why did you ask to see me?” Draven asks. The phrasing of her message had been more demand than request, but he wouldn’t draw attention to that.

“Can’t you guess?” she mocks.

“Clearly not. I suggest you tell me. We’re on the same side, girl.”

Jyn Erso shrugs expressively. “If you say so.” Eyes frankly refusing to believe it. “I wanted to talk about Cassian.”

“What can you possibly have to say about Captain Andor?” She barely knows him. Draven lets his disbelief show. Does the woman really think she has anything to add to the discussion about his protégé’s fate?

“I know you’re angry with him.”

She doesn’t know that. She can’t; there’s no way she can read his face that well when they’ve met precisely three times. But it’s a good guess. He waits for her to go on.

“You shouldn’t be. Angry with him. He’s a better man than any of you.” She breaks off, perhaps realising just how fucking tactless a remark that was. Then ploughs on bloodymindedly. “Maybe some of you top brass feel showed up. I don’t know what you feel and I don’t much care. But you’re smart enough to know, General. Cassian just saved your rebellion. He’s given you back the thing you all claimed to be fighting for. You should give him a medal. A commendation at least. Not a court martial.”

Would Saw have court-martialled him, Draven wonders? It’s a long time since the last occasion he’d interacted with the old partisan and his thugs. Perhaps they’d still held to something approaching military procedures when Erso was serving with him.

Or perhaps _court martial_ was simply what Saw called his interrogation process.

He shudders inwardly as he remembers the pilot Rook and his whispered account of what was done to him in Gerrera’s dungeons. Like the rest of the Scarif survivors, Rook is improving, slowly. But the psych eval suggests his mental health will never completely recover.

He decides to give the girl a lead, see where she takes it. “You think you would have something to contribute to Captain Andor’s court martial proceedings?”

She was pale anyway, but now she positively blanches. Her voice cracks. “Are you – are you monsters really doing that? Force alive, you wouldn’t know a good man if he upped and skinned you!”

Hardly, Draven thinks, the obvious identifying act of a good man, even by his standards.

How barbaric must her life have been?

She’s staring at him now, trying to bore holes in his skull with her glare. He waits her out.

Her nostrils flare at around one minute forty. Not bad, for an amateur. She looks away and says sulkily “Fine. You’re fools. I couldn’t believe the Alliance was this fucking stupid but – okay. Yes, I have something to contribute.”

“Go on.”

“Your commander-in-chief, Mothma, she’s the one that wants everything in agreement and everyone all cheery-pals, right? The one who’ll only give orders if the _full support of the council_ is behind her?” Her voice blisters the sheen off the words. “Right? And you’re the pragmatist who gives the other orders, in the dark, on the quiet. Nasty. Necessary. Am I right?”

He won’t dignify that with an answer but it’s clear as she leans back and raises her head that, brief acquaintance or no, she is indeed reading the micro-expressions flickering around his mouth, his tightened eyes. Interesting.

“Right,” she says. “You’re bright enough to work this out. You probably already did. The moment your nice lady leader let that _council_ of hers decide to take no action, and throw away the advantage my father had got himself killed to give you, everything you’ve worked for since whenever it was you joined this lot – everything you’ve done was wasted. She as good as ordered you all to give in. Roll over belly-up. And even though I bet you could see that, you just _obeyed orders_.” That acid in her voice again, burning the virtue from those words like a pollutant. “Well, Cassian knew better. He ignored your precious chain of command again and disobeyed your fucking stupid orders because he knew that otherwise everything he’d done was for nothing. He told me so and he had no reason to lie, and he was right. It’s thanks to him you still have a rebellion now, to fight for and give orders for and – and get sanctimonious over.” She breaks off and draws in a harsh breath, and ploughs on grimly. “I’m sure you know that if he’d obeyed you the first time and shot my father, he and I would have killed each other on the ship, after. And no-one would have got those troops to Scarif. You might have kept your nice unified alliance but without those plans you’d never have destroyed the Death Star and Yavin 4 would be nothing but asteroids now, just –“ she draws breath again, and he can see her steel herself to say it – “ _just like Alderaan_. And Force knows how many more worlds would’ve gone the same way. If you people had had your orders obeyed. Yet you’re going to fucking punish him, for saving your arses?”

It’s a good analysis, for all the strong language and the anger. When she puts herself to it she’s a capable speaker. Blunt and impassioned can be very effective, with the right audience. No wonder she got things moving.

If there really were a court martial, he’d be inclined to let her address them, just to see their faces.

“So, you think he’s a hero? Is that how he seems to you?”

A deliberately leading question, and Erso freezes, lips suddenly compressed as she bites back whatever words might have come next. A scarlet blush sweeps across her white face. She goes on breathing hard for a moment, but she holds on, controlling herself. 

She knows he’s trying to lead her on. Interesting.

“I just think he’s a better soldier than a lot of you here. And I think you know it.”

She shoves back the seat, clumsy with anger and from her still-bandaged hands, and stands up. “You can _send me back where you found me_ now, General.”

Draven shakes his head. “Just to med-bay,” he tells her. “That’s all. You can check on Cassian.”

He waits again, and sees the moment the defensive hostility cracks, and the first incredulous shock of hope shows through.

She is, he reminds himself, painfully, forcefully, still not much more than a kid.

“He’s – he’s still there? Not in the brig?”

Draven nods. “He’s probably on his way back from his physiotherapy assessment by now. I suggest you meet him at his room. Subject to medic’s orders you’re both of you free to come and go as you wish.”

“You **bastard**. You let me think he was –“

“I wanted to see what you would say.”

“And?” She’s practically snarling. “Do I pass your test?”

“Well, you won’t make an undercover agent without a good deal of training. But if you decide you’re going to enlist then I’d consider being your sponsor. We can certainly use more analysts.”

He feels briefly almost sorry for her; she looks almost sick with shock at that. How long has it been since anyone noticing her abilities has done anything except try to harm her because of them?

“You’d – _you’d_ do that?”

“We need the personnel.” It sounds cynical but it’s only the plain truth. “I am, as you say, not stupid. You’ve demonstrated that you’re intelligent, experienced and committed. I’d be a fool not to accept you if you want to stay.”

Jyn sways; straightens up quickly, hiding it. “I want to see Cassian.”

“Of course.”

He gestures to the door.

She’s halfway to it, head high and furiously dignified; then abruptly she turns. “Does Cassian know you’re talking bantha-squit about him being court-martialled? You had me fucking scared there, general.”

Something almost approaching humour there, for all that quip leaves him wondering again what a court martial consisted of among Gerrera’s people. Whether the person so tried was permitted any defence; or had a head on their shoulders at the end of it.

“He doesn’t know. But he won’t be surprised. He knows I needed to establish your loyalties were to more than just revenge for your father.” _And he’ll appreciate the news that she’s as loyal to him as to the cause, if I’m not mistaken. Though it may make the boy blush._

“He knows your methods,” Jyn Erso says bluntly.

“Yes. And for all you rail against their pragmatism, you know as well as I that it’s the pragmatists, the ones who make the choices like Cassian’s, who keep this rebellion alive. Just as much as the idealists in Command and the troops on the ground. We all work for the same cause.”

She snorts; half contempt, half a wry acceptance. “Good thing you’ve still got it, then, right? Your bloody cause.”

He nods. Let her win a point or two. He’s won more, and the rebellion has, and Cassian too. Erso will be a very useful recruit.

“Still think you should give him a medal,” she says. “You should be proud of him.”

“He’ll refuse the medal,” Draven says as the door opens. She hesitates on the threshold and then nods.

“I expect you’re right.”

The door swishes shut asthmatically behind her as she vanishes into the crowded hallway. Heading for med-bay; directly, not taking a roundabout route. That’s almost a sign of trust, coming from her.

_You should be proud of him._

**_I am._ **


End file.
